Should Have
by Tutu
Summary: Angel's Shanshu, Buffy's cake, Cordy's hair, and the hamster.


Disclaimer: Not mine's, Joss's. Sexy beast.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing: Seriously, do ya have to ask? Read and find out.  
  
A/N: No I'm not dead, no I'm not in a coma, and no I'm not British. And yes, I am back. Mainly thanks to Kendra3 for pushing my butt back out there. Real-life has sucked beyond belief, but things have gotten better, so I'm making a permanent stay.  
  
I will finish my other stories, but I'm taking a little break with this fic. Just one chapter, easy as a very depressing pie.  
  
And again, I'm going to thank Kendra3 for being incredibly pushy (in a good way) and helped my muse come back from wherever she was hiding.  
  
******************************************  
  
It wasn't supposed to be this way. Everything should have ended up perfect. But no, Fate had to have a large stick up its ass and decide to make my life just that much harder. I was already the slayer, now they had to shove this down my throat?  
  
See, what should have happened was the End of Days battle would come and go, leaving us with a happily-ever-after ending with cake and songs. Not Giles dying. Not Anya dying. They should have been there with us when we finally shut that bastard of a demon out of our dimension. Instead, we buried them under a dark and cold ground, where I hope, I pray, that they found all of their rewards.  
  
What also should have happened was Angel would get his Shanshu, turn human, jump onto the next plane out to Sunnydale. Then he would've ran down Revello Drv. in the sunlight, and I would see him and fall into his arms. We would have that great romantic kiss, where the world falls away and all that's left is us. That's the way I remember his kisses... perfect. Then we would go into my house and not leave for weeks, until we went to the altar, get married, have 2.5 kids and a blue-picket fence.  
  
He shouldn't have run to Cordelia. Although running isn't the word I would use, since they were already living together. They shouldn't have gotten married, and they definitely didn't need to produce a kid. All the while with me, back in Sunnydale, doing my best to keep out of Spike's pants, with little luck. I didn't know about Angel's Shanshu. Heck, I didn't even know that Cordelia went blonde. Fate's ass-on-a-stick once again foiled my plans for a happy future.  
  
Eventually Cordelia got the acting itch again, and she didn't think she could make it big by being dragged down with a former-vampire as a husband and a kid. She left him, and their son Brendan, and became one of the greatest porn stars. Angel shouldn't have had to show up on my door with a sad little 6 year-old by his side, begging for a mother-figure in his boy's life.  
  
I shouldn't have yelled. I shouldn't have screamed. I shouldn't have thrown a vase at him that Dawn made in fifth grade. But I did. He left, and I didn't see him for several months. When we met again, I should have just apologized, I should have said that I would love to help him out, for I did love him. But Spike was there, and his stupid British mouth had to spout out stuff that I did my best to repress. Angel and Spike shouldn't have fought, Spike shouldn't have pulled out a knife. He did. William the Bloody went to jail, came back out, left and didn't say goodbye. Just left a pair of handcuffs on my bedposts.  
  
Angel and I talked, but we didn't say everything we should have. I began to speak with Brendan more, seeing how much he was like his father, and how unlike he was as his mother. The three of us began going out more often, becoming one of those dysfunctional families that you see on T.V. Except we never got to go to Jerry Springer.  
  
Pretty soon, feelings that should have come out earlier finally made their presence. An innocent kiss here, a small glance there, and pretty soon I was talking to Willow about how Angel and I got together again. I moved in with them, my old house holding too many memories for me to handle. We bought a hamster, naming it Number 2, since Brendan found a liking to Mike Myers.  
  
We were happy, finally happy, and we had cake. However, Cordelia shouldn't have come back. She shouldn't have demanded full-custody.  
  
She shouldn't have won.  
  
But, the former-seer got her wish, and Angel and I only got to see Brendan every other weekend. Brendan was not happy. Angel was not happy. I was not happy. Brendan tried to run away, but his step-dad found him a week later. Brendan's 8-year old body, a tiny, tiny body, shouldn't have had those bruises. But they did. And the slayer couldn't do a single thing about it. Angel did everything he could to get him back, and after many long, dragged out months, Brendan came back home, Cordelia never calling him.  
  
Things were getting good. Really, really good. We had a blue fence, and our hamster still lived. After a while though, I couldn't stop coughing. I couldn't move as well as I used to. I couldn't get up out of bed as much. Turns out I was dying, for unknown reasons. Wesley researched and found that slayers weren't supposed to live long. A slayer's immune system worked so well because it knew that it didn't have to work long. My muscles were deteriorating fast because I had used up all the strength that I could ever possess.  
  
Fate had the last laugh, not me. Angel was in hysterics, and Brendan was so confused that he began to stop going to school. He was only 11, and he already started ditching. I didn't even know what ditching was until I was at least 14.  
  
I hoped that Angel would be able to turn things around once I was gone, and that he could go on without me. Things were quickly getting dark, and Angel refused to leave my side. He should have eaten, he should have showered, but he didn't.  
  
I shouldn't have died so soon, I shouldn't have become so ill. But I did.  
  
*************************************  
  
Yeah I know, I should have produced more, but I'm lazy. Hey, at least I'm honest! 


End file.
